The Chosen, part 1
By Madcat
A sexy young blonde defends the world from evil.


She lay on her back with her boyfriend deep, deep inside. It felt so good, so
perfect. Jennifer did a lot of things: cheerleading, drama, softball, and
gymnastics. But this had to be her favorite activity.

Their congress took place in the basement of her parent's house. Her mom and
dad knew better than to bother her during these nocturnal visits. Jen was the
perfect daughter and seemed mature enough to handle her own love life.

Part of her intense desire came from Jon, her long time boyfriend. They made
the perfect couple. He was the football quarterback, tall, strong and oh-so
handsome. She was the cheerleader, blonde, busty and just plain hot. They came
together perfectly as if God had made them for each other.

But there was a little more to the story. Jennifer loved sex. Straight. Oral.
Backwards. Forwards. She had an insatiable appetite for it.

And, in the last few days, her sexual desires had somehow gotten worse. The
cheerleader was horny all the time. She had trouble concentrating at school.
During the football game a couple hours ago, the girl felt incredibly hot in
her skimpy little blue and gold outfit. Hot to the point where she flubbed
cheers because she was fantasizing about football players, and not just her
boyfriend.

Needless to say, the prim and proper, church-going Jennifer had become
troubled by her un-lady like thoughts, 'had' being the key word here. At this
moment in time, she thought of nothing but her boyfriend's big hard cock.

Without thinking, she flipped him over with surprising ease. Her physical
strength had also been something of a surprise lately. Yesterday at cheer
practice, the buxom blonde had done a standing back flip and quad floor
routine. Jen had studied gymnastics from age 4, but such feats had always been
well beyond her. As the girl developed into a busty young woman, flips had
only become more challenging. Yet, yesterday she looked like an Olympian.

Again, 'had' was the key word. She thought of none of that now. Only Jon
mattered, him and his big thing. Jennifer always liked being on top (not that
the girl didn't like other positions). She could control the action and the
pace that way. Also, it gave her a feeling of power, like she was the queen of
the world. So, the buxom monarch pinned her prince's arms and took full
advantage of him.

Sadly, Jon did not share his girl's love of this new position. Oh, he had been
on the bottom lots. This was the first time she ever pinned his arms. It felt
like rape and no boy ever likes to give up complete control. But Jon was a
kind man. His girl seemed to be getting off on it so he let her do her thing.
A female climax, her second, soon followed.

The male took that as a queue to change positions. He started to flip her back
over but failed. His girl slammed his hand back down and continued her sexual
romp. A little concerned, Jon tried again, this time getting his leg into it.
But he couldn't budge his arms and she pushed him back down, smiling as she
continued to fuck him.

This couldn't be happening. He stood 6-1 and packed 200 football-hardened
pounds. Jon could take on linebackers. Yet his 5-5, 130 pound, D-cup packing
girlfriend seemed to be overpowering him. Now desperate, the male pushed up
with both hands and his pelvis. The boy's arms slipped free of her grasp and
for a brief moment it seemed like he just might prevail.

But Jen quickly shattered his hopes. She grabbed his wrists and began to force
his arms down. He battled back, knowing somehow this would change their whole
relationship. But it did little good. Jon watched in abject horror as her
supple female arms overpowered his. His pelvis thrust got him nowhere too. It
just managed to push his penis deeper inside the over-sexed female, resulting
in yet another girl orgasm.

He didn't come for another half an hour. By that time, his sweet little
Jennifer had too many to count. In some ways, the last half hour had been one
long female orgasm. At least the humiliation was finally over.

Or so he thought. The buxom blonde still wanted more. She slid up his chest
and planted her hot sex on his mouth. "Eat me, you son of a bitch, eat me."
Jen hissed.

He did so, wondering where the hell his girlfriend had gone.

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, a different kind of meeting took place in
the basement of an old church. But this was no happy celebration or bake sale.
A fire burned in the middle of the room. Shadowy, hooded figures surrounded
it, making offerings to the dark gods.

The thing over-seeing the ritual reeked of sulphurous evil. It clearly wasn't
human in the standard sense. Four powerful arms sprouted from its shoulders.
Ivory horns protruded from its skull. And the thing between its legs, while
obviously male in design, exceeded earthly proportions.

"Is she ready?" it hissed.

"Yes, Father." A kneeling man said.

"Bring her to me."

"Your will." The human said, scampering off to do the demon's bidding. This
was a great night, for the father would be getting another son, another agent
of evil. Their numbers had grown so much in the last century. Finally free of
the Chosen, they had multiplied and prospered. The Sons of Darkness now
occupied positions of power in every government, military and corporation on
the planet. Soon, very soon, the takeover would be complete. They would bring
hell on earth.

Jennifer went thru the motions on this last cheer. She didn't like Saturday
practices much to begin with. The events of the previous evening distressed
her even more. Jon had left the house in a foul mood. Surely, he had just been
fooling around during the sex. She couldn't be stronger than her hunky
boyfriend. Maybe it had just been the oral sex part. He didn't like going down
on her very much.

Just as a test, the buxom blonde made a bicep. She had always been a strong
girl, pound for pound equal to the boys. Jen expected to see a perky little
girl muscle. She got something much larger.

"Are you paying attention, Miss Jennifer?" Coach Dave said, getting in her
face.

Are you paying attention, Miss Jennifer. What a geek! And who ever heard of a
male cheerleading coach. He coached the cheer team like it was a real sport.

"Yes, sir." She replied, unable to hide her scorn.

"Hit the showers, Smith. And stop by my office before you leave." The man
ordered. "Now, the rest of you ... "

She took off in a huff. God, she hated that guy. Another 6 months with him
seemed like an eternity, Jen thought as she passed by the weight room.

The girl stopped and looked down at her arm. She made another bicep. It did
look big, almost but not quite, unfeminine. Jen felt it. Her bicep seemed hard
and solid. Okay, she always went for the hard, sculpted look. But there was
more. There was real power behind that muscle.

On a hunch, she entered the weight room. It was dark and empty. Jen flicked on
the light and went over to the bench press machine.

She knew little of weight lifting. It was a boy thing, something clearly
beneath a female. Jen lifted occasionally with Jon, usually just watch his big
muscles. But, Jen did know that most girls and boys for that matter, could not
bench press their weight. So she set it to 130. OK, it was closer to 140, the
girl thought, bumping it down a notch. Then the busty blonde lay back on the
bench.

She took a moment to admire her wonderful bosom. Even lying down, they stood
up like two big mountainous peaks. God had truly blessed her. The girl heaved
the bar. Once. Twice. Ten freaking times. Oh-my-God.

Jen sat up, staring at the machine. It was set right. It was working right.
She glanced down at her arms. Her muscles looked bigger, swollen with blood
flow. But they weren't tired. Just the opposite, they never felt better.

The girl bumped the weight down to 150 and then shrugged. She dropped it to
200 pounds, the most Jen had ever seen her Jon do. Her hands gripped the bar
tentatively, as if she were afraid of what was about to happen. Then the buxom
young blonde pumped out another 10 reps.

"Well done, young lady, well done." A man said from the doorway.

Poor Jen about had a heart-attack. She jumped off the bench as if someone had
just caught her playing with herself, which she never-ever did by the way.

"YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME," Jen noted with uncharacteristic profanity.
"Who are you? Why are you watching me?"

"I have been watching you for sometime." He said cryptically.

OK, this guy was a total loser. The kind with a capital L. The man was tall
and lean, dirty and unshaven. He looked like one of those yucky homeless
people. "You better leave. I could scream."

"Please don't do that. I have sensitive ears. Plus, we have to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you. Now, if you don't ... " the girl said as only a
stuck up blonde could.

"Have you been feeling a bit different lately?" he asked. "I can see that you
are pretty pumped but if I'm not mistaken, that's just the tip of the
iceberg."

That one cut a little close to home. For once, Jennifer was speechless.

"A little bold and brazen, perchance. And some other things best left
unmentioned by god fearing Christians."

"What! How did you know? How could you know?" she said, standing up. Her proud
bosom captured the stranger's attention.

"Because I was young once too. I stood in your shoes many years ago."

He sounded like her grandfather. Skanky as he was, the stranger couldn't be
more than 30, probably much younger.

She snorted. "You aren't that old. What are you, pushing 25?"

"Try 226."

"Your fucking nuts." The F-bomb slipped out like nothing. It sounded like
another girl talking.

"Many would say. But of course, if you have seen what I have seen, nuts aren't
so bad."

"I'm leaving." Jen decided. This was too weird. She tried to push pass the
stranger. He blocked her way.

"Do one thing and then you can go if you want."

Here it comes! If this Loser asks for a BJ, then he's going to get it, she
thought.

But he didn't. The male did steal a furtive at her bulging breasts, but that
was it. He stepped over the bench press and maxed it out at 400 pounds. "Try
it."

"You have to be shitting ... " Jesus, more profanity.

"You know you can do it, don't you?" the man whispered, his blue eyes seeking
her out.

"I can't do that much. That's more than any boy at school."

"That's right. Try it."

Jen shook her head and choked back some more profanity. He was right about all
of it. She did feel brassy and the 400 pounds really didn't look like much.
Her mind flicked back to last night. She had handled Jon with ease. And he
hadn't been fooling around.

The buxom lass sat on the bench and stared at the bar for a moment. Then she
glanced at the stranger. He was staring at her tits again.

"There's now way I ... I ... " Jen started to say, but the words kind of died
in her throat. By that time, she held the bar high of her head. It hurt her
arms and her biceps, not to mention her boobs, trembled with exertion. But
hell, it was 400 pounds. She put it down slowly as if it could crush the rest
of the world. It already crushed hers.

"I - I - I don't ... "

"Then be quiet for a moment and let me explain. You have been chosen, Jennifer
Smith, to defend the world from evil."

"Chosen by whom?"

"By God of course. We all were."

"Who's we?"

"Right now? Its just you and me. We have been hunted over the centuries by the
great Enemy. He has killed hundreds of us."

"Who's the Enemy?" she enquired, only half believing him. The stranger was
still staring at her big boobs. She looked down to see that her nipples had
hardened into two giant pencil erasers.

"A demon named Tzarkhan. Hundreds of years ago, during the Crusades, some
great knights turned to the powers of darkness. They were laying siege to the
city of Antioch. There the infidels defied them. The whole Crusade balanced on
the edge of a sword. These men turned to the Devil when God would not help
them.

Lucifer unleashed his pet, Tzarkhan, upon the world. Antioch was destroyed,
offered up to the dark gods as a huge human sacrifice. But much to the
knight's disgrace, the demon stayed, making his home upon this world.

The first Chosen made their appearance soon after. They formed a group known
as the Knights Templar and openly battled the evil loosed upon the world."

"That's one hell of a story." Jen said, glancing back at the 400 pounds.

"Its not a just a story, its true." The man said, his face hardening. "Its not
the worst of it. We have failed, Jennifer. Evil grows unchecked and we are the
last of the Chosen."

"I got to go." The girl said, standing up.

"You must listen to me. They are searching for you too. If they find you, and
they will, you'll be dead." The man said, grabbing her arm.

"Listen, stay away from me. If I see you again, I'll call the cops."

"They can't help you." The man said, watching her prominent ass shake its way
out of the weight room.

"We have her." The man said over the intercom.

"Her?" Thomas replied.

"Yes sir. That's how she eluded us for so long. It's a girl, 18 year old
Jennifer Smith of Tulsa, Oklahoma."

"How did you locate her?" he said, leaning over his big mahogany desk.

"The FBI never misses a clue, sir."

"Don't bullshit me, special agent."

"It was easy, we just followed the other one. He led us right to her."

"Send me a complete file and then kill both of them."

"Both? This is the third one this dude had led us to."

"Let us finish the Chosen for good. A fitting Halloween present for Father."

The FBI agent chuckled. "Yes, brother Thomas. With pleasure."

The man looked over the city of St. Louis from the top of his skyscraper. He
would miss this world of sinful pleasures. Thomas knew Father as well as any
of them. The old demon would miss it too.

Jennifer walked home slowly. It was a warm fall night with a stiff breeze. A
storm was blowing in. She could feel it. The girl still wore her shorts and
tee shirt from practice and the wind blew her hair around wildly.

All she could think about was the weirdo. Her mind knew he was crazy, but her
heart told another story. Much of what he said was true. What if the rest was?
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up.

Then the spotlight hit her. A car pulled up beside her and two men got out.
They looked like the bad guys from the X-Files.

"Jennifer Smith?" One man said, "I'm agent Deavers and this is agent Campbell.
We're with the FBI."

"Ah, am I in some kind of trouble?" the girl blurted out. First the weirdo,
and now this, she thought to herself.

"No, ma'am. We were just wondering if you have seen this man." Deavers said,
holding out a picture of the weirdo.

Agent Campbell took up a position behind her, perfect if she tried to run.
Then she noticed that the FBI guys had stopped her near an old warehouse. The
only part of her walk not in a safe, cozy residential area. Jen had a bad
feeling about this one.

"Sorry, haven't seen the guy. Is he some kind of bad guy?" she asked.

"Yeah, he is. Rapist. You sure you haven't seen him."

The girl shook her lovely head. "I really need to get going."

"Well, Miss Smith, we really need you to step in the car for a few more
questions." The agent said, staring at her tits. Boy, it was a lot more fun
chasing chosen girls, especially big, busty cheerleaders. Maybe it would be a
porno star next time, the male thought.

She exhaled slightly. The weirdo wasn't lying. If she got in that car, no one
would ever see her again. But she had to know for sure. Time to test the FBI.

"So, are you boys working for that Tzarkhan creep?" Jen teased, sticking out
her nubile young breasts.

WHAM! Deavers slapped her across the mouth and hissed. "Shut it, whore. You
are not fit to speak his name!"

Well, shit-fire, that kind of answered that stupid question, Jen thought as
she looked up at the two men in black. Deavers had hit her hard enough to
knock her down and she tasted her own blood. But the buxom blonde was oddly
unafraid and un-cowed.

Special Agent, Son of a Demon, Deavers saw her as just another teenage bimbo.
He grabbed the girl by her tee shirt and hoisted the busty bitch to her feet.

"You are coming with us. We are going to rape and kill you." He hissed, still
not sure about the order he wanted to do them in.

"Sounds like a blast." Jen replied, kneeing the male in balls. His mouth made
a funny little O shape as his hands went slack.

As a successful cheerleader and quite probably home-coming queen, Jen had
never experienced violence. She had never hit anyone in anger nor kneed any
boy in the nuts. So it really surprised her when she head butted the already
hurting Special Agent, Demon-Boy Deavers. His nose exploded and he went
flying.

But agent Campbell was ready. Laughing at his partners demise at the hands of
some teen vixen, the stockier male clamped her in an unbreakable reverse bear
hug.

"Gotcha! Honey buns!" he boasted as his hands hit pay dirt.

They were all over her glorious rack. Touching. Squeezing. Feeling her up like
a common band slut. All hell was about to break loose. Literally.

Campbell quickly learned that no hold was unbreakable. Jen threw him off like
an ill fitting top. The male didn't know whether to be more surprised by her
strength or disappointed by the loss of her succulent bosom.

She whirled on him like panther and struck. It was a girl punch all the way
but it slammed into Campbell's face like a sedge hammer. The stunned male
staggered back. Jen gave him a two handed shove that sent the male sprawling
into the wet grass.

"That'll teach you not to feel a girl up." the busty teen said, her hands on
her wide womanly hips.

To her, this fight should have been over. She had dealt these boys incredible
damage. One would probably never have children, the other probably a coma.
Little did she know, the fun was just starting.

Jen heard a whisping noise behind her and saw Deavers already on his feet.
While bloody, he looked steady and battle ready. She expected to see a gun in
his hand, but no. He had a wicked little oriental knife in his hand.

"Come here, bitch!" he said, using unnecessarily foul language. Her
congressman would hear about this one. The man grabbed her tee shirt with
amazing speed. Jen tried to pull back. Her shirt tore. The buxom teen fell,
trying to stay away from the man's slashing knife.

She jumped to her feet and ran towards the old warehouse, her shirt falling to
the ground. A 6 foot tall chain link fence blocked her way. The topless girl
turned to face her pursuers. They both had knives out, Deavers helping
Campbell to his feet. They were coming for her. Jen turned to hop the fence.

The young woman used to be a fair gymnast and took the fence like the uneven
bars. Just as she prepared to vault over, she felt a hand on the back of her
shorts.

"Get down here, bitch!" Deavers snarled, pulling her back over.

Such language! The FBI really needed to tighten their admission standards. The
girl simply refused to go along with that and pulled herself over the rest of
the way. She landed on her head with her shorts in Deaver's hand.

Jen rolled to her feet in just panties and a bra. OK, they were thong panties,
cute little low risers matching her tan brassier. She really wasn't a slut or
anything, the voluptuous teen just liked the way they felt (and looked). Plus,
all the girls were wearing them now.

The FBI guys smiled at each other before Campbell vaulted over the freaking
fence like it was 3 feet high. He landed right in front of the panty clad
chick.

"No fucking way." Jen cursed as she kicked him in the chest. It was a girl
kick all the way but it hit the man like a cannon ball. Campbell went flying
back into a stack off 55 gallon drums. One fell on his head. His last sight
was that of perfect female hips bracketed by a skimpy little thong.

The buxom teen had no time to gloat. She just knew the other agent had leapt
the fence too. These two were nothing more than a couple of middle aged white
guys. They probably had trouble tying their own shoes. Yet, the bastards could
jump like superman. She spun around, just in the nick of time.

Jen caught the gleaming blade coming down. He had just to drive the Xemba
knife a couple of more inches and she would be no more. But the girl hung on
doggedly, refusing to be his 12th kill (not counting mortals, of course). As
it was, the blade pricked her delicate, body washed skin just above her big
left breast.

But it simply wasn't going any further. Hunting female chosen was just not as
much fun as he previously thought. None of the males had ever been this strong
or this cunning. And Deavers was just about to find out by how much.

The buxom young cheerleader had a free hand. With it she exploited Deaver's
weakness. Jen grabbed his balls and squeezed like she meant it.

His mouth made that funny little O shape again. But this time there was no
escaping the female crush. Deavers went weak all over, the blade falling from
his hand. Soon, the only thing holding him up was Jen.

"Please, stop, please." The male begged. Defeat never felt this humiliating.
Not that he would know, none of these self-righteous sons of bitches ever beat
him before.

She dropped him like a sack of potatoes but the busty cheerleader was far from
done with demon-boy. Her foot went to his spindly little neck and pinned him
to the ground. "Who sent you? Why do you want to kill me?"

Could she not know? Was that even a possibility? The male thought, looking up
her smooth muscular leg to the sweet double bump of her femininity. This
creature was truly exquisite. "It's the way thing always are. The eternal
battle of good and evil." Deavers told her.

"So, you are evil then?"

"You could say that." He hissed. "We prefer the term morally ambiguous."

"So I should just kill you then?"

"Maybe a sound spanking would do the trick." The FBI guy joked, expecting to
die. Not that he wanted to. As demon child, the male could look forward to
near immortality. But now that rested in the hands of one buxom young
teenager.

"Yeah, maybe it would." She answer, picking him up, one handed around the
collar. Then she-bitch woman-handled him into the old warehouse. The girl was
so strong; she controlled him with just one hand despite his own set of
super-human powers.

Jen came to a locked door. It pissed her off. She kicked it in, crumpling the
metal as if it were cardboard. The girl quickly found what she was looking
for: a beam, 20 feet off the ground.

Deavers quickly found himself dangling from it, a chain looped around his
hands. The girl approached with his knife. A wily grin graced her gorgeous
face.

"Now, we are going to have a nice long chat. You are going to tell me
everything from your mother's maiden name to your grade in algebra class." Jen
said, her big D-cups highlighted by a single over head fixture.

The girl worked the buttons of his shirt with her foe's knife one by one. She
was kind of winging it here, just doing what came natural. He had information
that Jennifer desperately needed. Neither of them would be walking out of here
until she had it.

Stripping him was central to her plan. That would make the male feel
vulnerable and inferior. The blade made short work of his clothes. It seemed
to present an unnatural sharpness and Jen wielded it with surprising skill.

"I'm not telling you a thing. You might as well just kill me." Deavers
announced as she had him down to his bikini underwear.

"We'll see about that." The girl replied from his side. It was no accident
that she had her left breast mashed against his torso.

Jen grabbed the loop of his underwear and brought the knife up slowly. She
caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes as blade edge kissed the elastic band. It
parted with a snap and the busty blonde ripped the rest from his trembling
body.

The result shocked the wholesome teen. She could already tell that the special
agent was, for a lack of a better word, special. But to see it unfurl and rise
quickly to its full masculine potential impressed the young lady. It made her
Jon look very un-special.

To demon boy Deavers, it looked more like a surrender flag. He had met Father
on but two occasions. Access to the big guy was carefully controlled for all
sorts of reasons. Tzarkhan was intimidating and did a bang up job ruling thru
fear. But now he had met a woman who could be equally intimidating and a darn
sight easier on the eyes. He began to think about getting a new master, or, in
this case, a mistress.

Of course, she touched it, noting its rippling contours and pulsating power.
The Sons of Tzarkhan had a stimulating effect on women. This usually resulted
in their quick seduction and submission. But Deavers could already tell that
Miss Jennifer would be different. She brought razor sharp blade to within a
centimeter of his boy thing.

"Start talking Deavors. I want to know everything. It'd be a shame to cut this
thing down to size." The busty teen said, threatening to slice it up like an
over-ripe banana.

Pain and pleasure, fear and lust submerged his brain. Special Agent Deavers
gave up everything: his boss, their organization, and the Halloween surprise.
He didn't know his mother or he'd given her up too.

Jen found the interrogation very satisfying. It gave her an excuse to hold and
fondle the well endowed man for going on 30 minutes. She bought to the point
of ecstasy many times but never crossed the line. The girl seemed to know
instinctively the power she held in her hand. What Jen didn't know was that
she had just cracked the very first Dark Son.

Things didn't end with the interrogation. Both participants were too far gone
to hold back. When the buxom teen had thoroughly exhausted her fountain of
information, she lowered him to the ground. Then the girl pushed him down and
straddled the naked male.

By this time she was on fire. Deavers fought back tentatively, almost as if he
wanted to lose. It wouldn't have mattered in any case. Jen never felt stronger
or more alive. She easily forced him down and took the FBI man there on the
cold concrete floor, stuffing the massive thing deep, deep inside her.

The highly aroused male came quickly as her velvety womanhood encased him.
Somewhat disappointed, Jen slid up his finely muscled torso and rammed her
hot, wet pussy onto his tongue. He serviced her willingly. By the time the
male had finished he boasted another proud erection. This sordid cycle went on
and on, into the night.

Jen limped home, hurting not from the fight but from the wild sex following
it. She was dirty, wearing just panties and a bra, and wondering how to sneak
in the house at midnight without her mom and dad catching her. The house
looked quiet, but the lights were on. They were waiting for her, probably
worried sick.

Then someone popped out of the bushes. It was the weirdo.

"Are you OK?" the man asked with genuine concern. But he was staring at her
boobs as usual. They did look great in the half light, sweet globes of female
flesh pushing up out of her bra.

"It was them. Those Tzarkhan people you warned me about." The girl said,
suddenly crying. She felt cold, frightened and scared in just her skimpy
underwear.

The weirdo dropped into a fighting stance. "Where? Where are they?"

"I killed one, I think. The other, err, well, he ran away."

"You beat two of them?" the man said, suspiciously.

"Yeah," she sobbed, her big breasts bobbing.

That's incredible, he thought quietly. The Sons of Darkness didn't lack for
evil powers. In the past, they usually proved superior to the Chosen, who
often trained for years before confronting the Enemy. Yet, this little
teenager, this buxom and beautiful blonde had just beaten two of them.

"We have to get you to safety." The weirdo replied.

"No way, I have to get home. My folks must be worried sick."

"Well, they're just going to have to get used to it. You can never talk to
them again, nor anyone else you care for. The Enemy will be watching them
closely. If you contact them, it will mean their death. Lets go." He said,
pointing to his car.

"No way, I'm sick ... " she started to say before the man reached over and
pinched her shoulder.

The girl collapsed into his arms. The male picked her up and scooted over to
his car. Her big, full breasts lay just scant inches from his mouth. Damn, it
sucked being celibate.

"Where are you taking me?" the girl said, ten minutes later. She had on his
duster. It felt warm and comfortable like a blanket.

"To a safe house in Colorado. I can train you there. I'm not sure what we can
accomplish with just the two of us but we have to try."

"How do we beat these guys?"

"Find Tzarkhan and kill him." The man replied but got no answer. His beautiful
charge was fast asleep.

"I didn't go well. The new Chosen beat our two agents. One is dead, the other
missing." Thomas said on the phone.

"Missing you say." Replied the distant voice. It was whimsical, almost
effeminate. Father must be in his human form.

"Yes, Agent Deavers. Nobody knows what happened to him. I presume he is dead
but we aren't taking any chances."

"Good. Have you found the new man yet?"

Thomas let that one slip by. It had become something of the unspoken word
these last 24 hours. She was the first Chosen female. And the Sons of Darkness
knew that Jennifer Smith had done the impossible, defeating two veteran agents
with more than 20 kills under their two belts. The disappearance of Deavers
made it ten times worse. They could sense that he had met a fate worse than
death.

His heart skipped a beat as he pondered the implications of last night's
defeat. Somehow the budding demon prince knew the Chosen would not simply give
up. Blessed with a limited pre-cognizance, Thomas and the rest of his Damned
Family knew they were in for a hell of a fight.

"No, but we expect to at any moment. As soon as she is located, I'll send
Shade and his team to ... "

"Stop! Did you say 'she'?" the sweet voice asked.

Busted. Thomas paused, trying to find an alternative to the awful truth. "Yes,
I did. The new Chosen is a woman."

The voice laughed, or more accurately, giggled. "Poor Thomas, poor little
Thomas. So ashamed to have his men beaten by a girl that he missed the big
story here."

"Father?"

"This is it, Thomas. This is the prophecy unfolding. You must have faith.
Bring me this girl alive and unspoiled. She will be my next bride. She is what
makes this All Hallows Eve so important. She will be the vessel that carries
the Son of Satan to Earth. It will not be Lucifer's boy but mine. My son!" The
demon railed.

"Yes, Father." Thomas replied. Jealousy replaced his earlier fears. He was
Tzarkhan's son as were the rest of his Brothers.

"Bring her to me. Use Max and his Delta Force guys for the job. Keep her away
from your Brothers until we figure out what happened to Deavers." The line
went dead.

Thomas understood everything plainly now. He was about to be replaced as the
number one son. The man picked up the phone and speed dialed.

"Max, this Thomas Redding at Defense Concept Incorporated. I need your help
with something."

Pause.

"I'll send you our file on the target right away and let you know as soon as
we re-acquire her."

Short pause.

"Yes, it's a woman."

More pause.

"Terminate her. Immediately." Thomas ordered. "I'll pay double for this one."

He clicked the phone down then punched the intercom. "Irene, could you pleas
come in here?"

"Yes, sir." Came the very professional reply.

A fraction of a second later, the girl appeared in his office. Irene was quite
a girl at that. She stood 6 feet tall in bare feet and had a bod that men and
most women would kill for. Long slits in her knee length skirt teasingly
exposed those two gorgeous legs. The white, semi-see thru blouse stretched
provocatively over an enormous bosom. They were faker than a 3 dollar bill,
but Thomas never cared. A beautiful head of long black hair topped it all off.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Irene asked, dominating the center of his huge
office.

"I need your help with a special problem?"

"Business or pleasure, sir?" The girl asked, demurely.

Irene fell into a class of humans known as Supplicants. They understood the
true nature of the Sons of Darkness and worshipped Tzarkhan like a god. Being
both male and female, these humans had sold their souls to the ruinous powers.
Max, the mercenary commando, was another.

"Both." Thomas said, getting up. He stood about 6 feet tall too. But his
secretary wore 4" heals. Whit her poofy hair style, she seemed 6" taller than
her nominal boss.

"Good." The buxom brunette replied as she started to undress the smaller man.
His tie disappeared first, followed by the rest of clothing his except of a
pair of red bikini underwear.

"Mr. Redding, you look better than a girl deserves." She said, licking her
moist red lips. He did look good: tight muscles, V shaped torso and a nice
male bulge to go with it.

"Call me Thomas." The male replied.

"Sir, that would be totally inappropriate." Irene said as she removed her
skirt and blouse. The girl towered over him in a white bustier, panties,
garter belt, and long silk stockings. Last off was the heels, evening out
their height.

"Ready when you are, sir?" the secretary said with her hands on those supple
hips. She was teasing him now. Even Thomas could see that.

He launched a blistering right followed by a combo of kicks and punches. The
buxom babe blocked them all with brutal efficiency. Thomas marveled at her
combination of skill and beauty. He knew she had a black belt in aikido but
just the fact that she could keep pace with a Dark Son spoke volumes.

They had started these little practice fights two years ago with the idea of
keeping the desk bound male sharp. Thomas won every one of those early fights.
And they followed each one with blood curdling, spine tingling sex. But
something changed about 6 months into the sex fighting. The girl started to
prevail.

At first he let her win a few falls. Thomas kind of enjoyed the sight of the
statuesque bitch standing over him. But the male would always win the final
fall, and take the woman his way. Slowly that changed too. The buxom brunette
won nearly every fall. And she started taking him her way.

Thomas tried to tell himself that it was still because he let her win, but
that lie was getting harder and harder to believe as the girl went on the
offensive. She pressed her attack with the same brutal efficiency that the
girl used to defeat his. The male blocked her punch and tried to
counter-attack. It was a female trap and he bit hook, line and sinker.

The big chested brawler grabbed his out-stretched arm and punished his
mid-section with a series of powerful kicks. When her boss tried to escape,
she grabbed his black hair and held him there, blasting him like a neophyte.
It no longer looked like he possessed any super human powers.

After a dozen bone crushing blows, she tossed him contemptuously to the floor.
It was a sight that he had become painfully familiar with: the girl towering
over his nearly naked body. Thomas suddenly realized that it had been months
since he had seen her nude, almost a year since he had penetrated her.

His mind flashed to the news of the loss of two Sons to the female Chosen.
Suddenly, an ugly pattern emerged, one of male domination by the fairer sex.
It struck a primordial cord in the little demon boy. He stood up, determined
to defy the buxom brunette for the first time in months.

"Nice moves, sir." Irene complemented her boss. The male heard mockery
instead. He hadn't touched her lovely sultry skin, whereas she had beaten him
to a pulp. Only his super-human constitution allowed him to get back up again.

"Not as good as this one." The man replied, unleashing a spinning back kick.
His first leg was but a feint and the girl blocked it. The second came in and
devastated the girl, catching the busty bitch on the chin and spinning her
voluptuous body around. Then the male kidney punched Irene in rapid
succession. No mere human could get back up after that punishment.

"We do it my way, today." Thomas gloated, his prick hardening in anticipation
of entering the woman.

Sadly, the male made the mistake of stepping too close to the fallen fem
fatal. And she was anything but beaten. Irene's leg came up and caught the
male in the stomach. She passed up on his exposed and vulnerable man parts for
sentimental reasons. But her kick was hard enough to lift the little man in
the air and toss him across the room.

Stunned both mentally and physically that the girl could take his best shot
and come up kicking, Thomas tumbled over a chair. By the time he stumbled to
his feet, the busty bitch again dominated the center of his office,
unofficially challenging his authority.

"Come on Thomas, you know you like it my way." She cooed.

The male attacked, wary of her power, as he should be. But it did him little
good. Distracted by her heaving melons, the poor CEO took a front snap kick to
the face as soon as he got within range of those long, powerful, silk stocking
covered legs. It sent him back from whence he came, taking another humiliating
tumble over that chair.

This time the girl predator attacked without hesitation. She threw him bodily
into the wall behind the chair as tried to stand.

"See how you like it, sir." The buxom brunette said, blasting his kidneys with
a right and left. The male howled in agony as the wicked female foe spun him
around. Her blows now found him undefended, his once super-human body
paralyzed with pain.

Female beatings were not uncommon in this office. Irene often used him as a
punching bag, knowing that within an hour the little demon boy would be fully
healed of the worst she could inflict. But it was a little different today.
She fed off his desperation and eagerly returned it. This was their final
battle of the sexes. One the girl had determined long ago that she would win.

Thomas wilted under the first dozen punches, blows that would have killed a
normal man. Only her female fists kept him on his feet as they lifted him 3
inches off the ground with each glorious impact. Finally, even that was not
enough and Thomas slid to his knees, beaten like never before.

He looked up at her with impotent hate in his eyes, loathing what she would
soon do to him. The girl had broken his nose, smashed his jaw and cracked no
less than 6 ribs. That was just foreplay for what was about to happen. Already
the male could feel the bones mending and his strength returning. He would
never submit to her again.

"Did I hurt you, sir?" Irene asked contemptuously. She noted that he didn't
just pop back up this time.

The almost nude male forced a little smile. He did feel naked and vulnerable
in his skimpy little bikini. On the contrary, the voluptuous vixen looked
fully dressed in her big bustier and stockings. The smoothness of her pubic
mound caught his eye. How could a mere human woman kick the snot out of the
most powerful man on the planet?

Well, the answer was something the arrogant male had never considered and the
girl had carefully disguised. She was so much more than a simple Supplicant.
While the buxom brunette acted the part well, Irene had powers none of these
boys could dream of. She hailed from a long line of witches.

Her target was much bigger than the weak, pathetic man groveling before her.
She wanted Tzarkhan. Thomas was nothing more than one in a long line of
stepping stones. Irene knew she had to move carefully. Being a Supplicant was
the only way for a mere female to infiltrate the ranks of these demons. Soon
she would learn from Thomas the demon's whereabouts and how to trap it.

"Let me help you up, sir." The girl said more nicely this time. She yanked him
to his feet by his right arm. He repaid the kindness by slamming his left into
her midsection. The blow seemed to bounce harmlessly of her bustier as if it
were some kind of armor.

Thomas followed up with a stronger punch aimed at her big boobs, breaking all
of their normal taboos. But the enraged male no longer cared. The only thing
that matter was turning the tables on this bitch.

But his fist never slammed home into her vulnerable breast. It stopped short
of its target. She had caught his punch, holding his fist hostage. Thomas
desperately aimed his left at her other bouncy boob. Irene caught that one
too.

The male watched in wonderment as his gorgeous secretary held both his fists
firmly. He had lately questioned if the girl was stronger than himself. The
answer suddenly seemed obvious albeit impossible. Then she began to squeeze,
his knuckles popping like so much popcorn. This wasn't the first time buxom
bitch had broken his bones, but the first time she had broken so many.

"Please, stop, I submit." Thomas wailed, finally saying those magic words. He
slumped to his knees.

"Mr. Redding, that wasn't very nice." The girl looked at him crossly. "I think
we will have to do it twice today."

"Nooooo!"

"Oh, yes, you naughty little boy." Irene cooed, staring down at him from atop
her glorious breasts. "Now kiss it."

Thomas was already staring at it. He knew the routine. Craning his neck, the
male supplicated himself to the female. His lips gently kissed her panty clad
pussy, knowing all the while that would be as close as he would ever come to
this glorious treasure chest.

She hauled him to his feet again but this time the buxom bitch was far from
gentle. Irene spun her boss around and arm locked him. She liked it to feel
like rape and he did too, despite his protestations. By the time Irene forced
him to the other side of the desk, the demon boy sported a truly godlike
erection.

As usual, Thomas found himself bent over his large mahogany desk with his legs
spread. She had his head pressed flat against the surface. The male couldn't
see but he knew what she was up to. The girl kept it in his right hand drawer,
a constant reminder of her domination.

"Irene, please, I'll do anything." He begged. By this time, he could feel it,
teasing his opening. His body shuddered, but it wasn't just fear that made him
shake.

"Yes you will. You'll do anything I say, bitch." The girl hissed. All
pretenses were gone now. The buxom brunette assumed complete control as she
ripped the bikini from his trembling loins.

By the time she entered him, it felt almost like a relief. Irene did him her
way, her favorite way, draped over the man's desk, his seat of power. The
symbolism was not lost on the humbled male. He now saw their 2 year
relationship for what it was: a seduction into the dark side of female
domination. Sadly, Thomas could do little about it except come all over his
expensive furniture.

It took Irene much longer to achieve fulfillment, which she did courtesy of a
well designed tool that placed a leather strap against her special spot.
Normally, that would end it, but not this time. The buxom bitch promised him
another round.

"How about missionary position this time?" she said, knowing his probable
reaction.

"No, please, I ... " the man protested. He hated it that way.

Irene pushed him down. "Shut it, bitch. Remember who's in charge around here."
The girl said, spreading his legs.

Despite his feelings, Thomas submitted to her yet again, his mind racing with
thoughts of having her killed or humiliated for this effrontery. But that
would never happen. People would wonder why. Some of his brothers would ask
the wrong questions.

She took him hard and rough, just like the last time. But that's not why he
hated this position. One of the unspoken facts about life as a Son of Darkness
was the occasional liaison with a Brother. It wasn't sexual per se. The men
used it as a means of control and establishing a pecking order as was common
in pagan times.

But they never did it missionary style. Only Irene liked it this way. Thomas
found it far too intimate. He could no longer pretend she was not female with
all of her lovely assets bouncing around in front of his face. He could not
place himself miles away from the scene of the crime. And the handsome CEO
could not deny he loved every female dominated second of it.

Being on his back gave Irene perfect access to his manhood. She played him
with both hands, kneading his useless but hard and fat cock like a giant
sausage. He quickly sprayed himself with his own seed. The buxom brunette
giggled. She loved that part.

"Does big daddy know his favorite son likes to take it up the ass from a
girl?" Irene mocked him, bordering on the edge of giving up too much.

"There is much he - ahhh! - doesn't know." Thomas answered, moaning like a
bitch in heat. His manhood began to harden again. This was another drawback of
his demonic heritage. Irene could keep him going all night long.

"Like what?" she quizzed him.

Her hands acted like a truth serum, Thomas spilled the beans on everything.
Jennifer, Deavers, Max, the Halloween surprise; it all came out. In his
defense, the Son of Darkness had no clue as to who he was talking to. He still
thought her to be a loyal though demanding servant. She was about to prove to
be his most dangerous enemy.

"So what more you need, sir?" the woman asked as she stood up.

He lay before her drenched in gooey white stuff. It took a moment to remember.
"Yes, I need your, ah, special talents for this one. I want you to kidnap
Jennifer's boyfriend for me. I want an ace in the hole for this card game.

"Consider it done, sir." Irene said with a big ass smile. She now had a plan.